


Grey Would Be the Color if I Had a Heart

by Cherith



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Gen, Masturbation, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-28
Updated: 2010-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/pseuds/Cherith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story for the DA:O Ficathon from baroque_tragedy (LJ) for costume_sonata who wanted drama and angst between Alistair, Teagan and a female Amell.  I hope I did the idea justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grey Would Be the Color if I Had a Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [costume_sonata](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=costume_sonata).



> I'm bad at story titles, so the title for this some lyrics from "Something I Can Never Have" by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> Also, while I tried to avoid them, there is slight mention to the Warden's supposed assignment in the new DA:O expansion: Awakenings.

It started with dinner. Things had been awkward between Alistair and his uncle since...well, since Alistair had really started admitting to himself that Teagan was indeed his uncle. For the most part, she had been trying to stay out of their quarrels, but it wasn't helping things a bit when one or the other of them would come to her for council. It had been near two months since the Archdemon had been defeated; both she and Alistair survived by the sheer will of the Witch and her mad spell. She tried not to think about that night, what had been lost between herself and Alistair when she had to make that request of him. He had obliged, because it was she that asked, but she knew things had started to change then and there.

She could be Queen, they talked of it often enough...or at least they spoke of it in polite company, but she and Alistair did not talk of it alone. Teagan spoke of it to her, behind closed doors, persistent that a marriage between she and Alistair would help unite Ferelden in a way it hadn't been in many generations. _"Think of it"_, he would say. _ "The two illustrious surviving Grey Wardens, together, ruling Fereleden"_. He would say it, even as he pressed her up against the cold stone, interrupting himself to blanket her neck, face, or chest with kisses. Sometimes, he said it quietly while gazing into space, his eyes twinkling with some romantic notion. She knew it meant a lot to him, that she meant a lot to him, but she could not bring herself to question him about it, or them.

Instead, she tenderly repaired her relationship with Alistair the best she knew how. His pride had been hurt over and over though the last few months, and even though the Archdemon had fallen by their hands, it had not been enough. _Maybe it would never be enough._ He told her, _"It wasn't your fault."_ He would kiss her gently as they laid in bed, fingers tracing the battle scars not yet healed on her arms and legs. _"You only asked of me what you knew I could handle."_ But she knew that was not entirely true. She asked him out of need, out of fear, not out of the love she knew they held between them. Or had. Now, it felt like neither of them was sure how to make a relationship work when there wasn't a battle going on all around them, when there wasn't turmoil each morning, where there wasn't a quiet campfire to warm their secrets.

But, it was during dinner, when things began spiraling out of the precarious control she had been holding onto. Eamon had finally made it to the castle to spend a few days, he was eager to see Alistair as King, and Teagan had told her the previous evening that he planned to leave with Eamon. The meal itself was pleasant enough, even Anora had deemed it worth her time to join them for the evening, though tensions were still present between she and Alistair, they had managed an arrangement of sorts to present a calm and united front between past and present leadership. She had, after all, been married to his brother and he could not...would not just push her aside unkindly.

As the meal is ending Teagan chimes a spoon against his goblet to quiet the conversations between them. Before he stands, he reaches under the table and squeezes her hand. She is quick to pull it back before Alistair can notice the moment between them, and she looks up at Teagan with feigned nonchalance.

"Brother, Nephew, Warden, Anora: I have an announcement I would like to make." Teagan lifts his goblet from the table and gestures towards his family, then herself, and briefly at Anora. "I am to be married."

He does not look in her direction, instead holding up his other hand as both Eamon and Alistair try to ask questions simultaneously. "No, no. Let me finish. I have met a beautiful woman at court. She's a business woman, and though a recent addition at court she is from Redcliffe." He spares a glance in her direction, his head dipping low and she thinks it is almost regret that crosses his face before he adds, "Besides, it is far past time that I marry."

Her temper flares, and she can feel the strong tug of magic tingling her arms, flowing into her finger tips. She looks away from the table, away from Teagan, and tries to avoid questioning glances as she takes several deep breaths while Teagan carries on about his new love, Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn, the same woman she and Alistair had helped, had provided for. _Kaitlyn._ The woman's name in Teagan's deep timbre repeats again and again in her head. _A beautiful woman. Kaitlyn. Married._ She knew that she had been deluding herself that she could carry on with Teagan, she loved to be with him, to feel his strong hands on her skin, his breath on her lips and her name on his. But love him? She had not thought to presume so much; not when she had declared so much for his nephew: her Warden companion, the new King. She bit back the jealous accusations that danced on her tongue and forced herself to finish her meal. She made her simple congratulations, so as not to seem rude, and excused herself as soon as decency allowed. She wasn't surprised to hear his knock at her door awhile later.

"You are mad." He made no effort to dance around the topic, admitting himself into her room. She breathed deep for several moments before closing the door, and turning to face him.

"Mad does not begin to describe what I am feeling at this particular moment."

Genuine shock crossed his face for a brief moment before his expression fell back into his constant one of kind diplomacy. Tension knots her shoulders, and she fights the rise of magic in her veins as she strains to look at him knowing her face is already flush.

"I was wrong not to tell you."

She answers with a glare of agreement.

"I do apologize. And I will admit to some bit of cowardice in my actions."

She quirks an eyebrow in question, but does not interrupt. Her shoulders are relaxing some, but she is not calm, and she knows it.

"Warden, I could not bear..." He struggles to continue, and she hears the quiver in his voice. _Scared of me - of my reaction - he will say._

She shakes her head, and finds she cannot contain her own anger and frustration any longer. "No, I do not want to hear excuses. You confess love, you share my bed, but never -- never do you speak of marriage." Her own voice quavers, fighting as she speaks to contain her tears. She does not add, that there would be no way for them to be married, Alistair is one thing...he is another entirely.

"You are right. Please forgive me." It's a coddling response, and he says it automatically as if it's been waiting on his tongue since he strode through the door. He knows as she does, they would not be married; they have betrayed Alistair too much already.

A knock at the door startles them both, and she is quick to turn towards it.

"That will be Alistair," she murmurs.

"Eamon will have retired for the evening. You should go to him. I will see myself out, once you are gone."

Her fingers twitch at her side, aching for a release, frustation fueling magic she cannot expend. She nods, but does not turn back to Teagan, knowing there is far more that needs to be said that cannot be with Alistair on the other side of the door. When she opens it a minute later, she does indeed find Alistair behind it. Before she can step to the other side and get the door closed behind her, Alistair leans in to plant a kiss on her lips. He uses the moment she is slightly off-balance to gently guide her back into the room.

He kicks the door closed after he passes the threshold, then wrapping his arms around her deepens his kiss to one far less chaste than the one from the hall. She does not hear anything other than the heavy breath of Alistair, but while Alistair's eyes are shut, she scans the room to find Teagan. She locks eyes with him over Alistair's shoulder, and he is quick to look away from her. She hesitates for another moment, before finally closing her eyes and sinking into Alistair's embrace. There is fire in his kiss - he too is thinking about Teagan's marriage announcement, and it has spurred him to her room.

Alistair makes no further movement towards the bed, meaning they block Teagan's only exit from her room, and she finds a sort of cruel pleasure it that knowledge. For too long she has dreamed of a night she might have both men in her room, and though it's not the reality she has dreamed of, she finds she is not in a hurry to find it's conclusion. Instead she lets Alistair lead as he may, finding hungry lips on hers and with swift movements her dress is unlaced and sliding up over her head. Dress lacings have nothing on the complication of thick leather or metal and buckles of armor, and well-won experience has made their hands deft at the removal and donning of armor.

His hands are cool on her skin, and where he touches, she can feel the flush of anger fade. In its place there is a prickling of excitement as she helps him out of his own royal wardrobe and his fingers probe at the edges of her underthings. When the moment allows she tucks her head on his shoulder and places tiny promising kisses on his neck and ear.

"You know that I love you?" He asks, words no more than a whisper in her ear. It makes a shudder run through her, and she ceases her teasing parade of kisses.

Teagan is not forgotten, just barely she makes him out as he slips further into the corner of the room. But this moment, is no longer about Teagan. And it's not jealousy that pushes her into Alistair's arms while Teagan watches, but she must admit to some small part of revenge. It's love. She knows it is, she can feel it throughout her body, the way her body, her mind, her magic aches to be closer to Alistair, to eliminate every space between them and fill it with herself. What she has...had with Teagan was not the same, it was companionship in a time when everyone needed comfort. It was the love and respect of friendship, of the humility of shared battle wounds, the time she needed to heal what had come between she and Alistair: what she had bartered with and beaten herself up over. It was guilt.

She finds Alistair's blue eyes searching her face, a hand cups her chin and tilts it so her eyes meet his. She is surprised to find tears in her eyes when she blinks, and his other hand reaches up to swipe one away as it slips down her cheek. His face is soft, his eyes full of concern at her tears and he lets his hand away from her chin.

"You did know, this is not the first time I've said as much." His voice is insistent, determined.

"No," she manages, "you have said before." She pauses, swallowing to set her voice right. "I just thought..."

"You were wrong. Mage or no, children or no, Morrigan forgotten; I love you."

It's all her worries wrapped into one short sentence. _You were wrong._ It echoes in her head over and over, like _Kaitlyn_ had earlier in the evening, only this time in Alistair's voice. The words pound against her forehead as if they could spill out and show him all her wrongs, lay them out for him to see, for him to judge. She shivers as the chill in the room catches up to her rapidly cooling skin. He runs his hands over her arms to warm her, and leads her with a gentle push backwards towards the bed.

When she's seated on the edge of the bed, he arranges a place for himself so that he can still see her easily. She keeps her face down, feeling ashamed and embarrassed, and not knowing how to put everything to rights. He doesn't intrude on her thoughts, instead waits calmly, a warm hand trailing over her shoulders and back.

"Alistair," she begins with a shaky voice, "oh, I really do not know what to say. I only know that I should say something." Her voice trails off and she berates herself (she - the cunning and persuasive Warden-Commander) for not being better composed.

She can feel his laughter, though it is soundless, and she gazes up to find his eyes twinkling down on her in amusement. It's eerie on occasion how well he can read her emotions, and unfortunate that he cannot see everything -- saving her the crushing guilt that plagues her now.

"Alistair," she begins again, this time with the small smile that his has coaxed from her.

"We are a mis-matched pair," he says with a chuckle. "Everything against us."

She nods solemnly, "Including ourselves".

"And the darkspawn." They share a small smile that is not indicative of what they have overcome, but what they have shared on the field of battle. He continues, "And that's not even counting that damned rank of nobles I never really wanted to be a part of."

"But it is who you are."

He nods, "You gave that to me; the strength to acknowledge what I did not want to about myself, and the wisdom to do what needed to be done."

"I am sorry." She says, half a whisper and half a joke. Thankfully, he shares her sense of humor.

"Yes," he says with a grim nod, "for that you should be punished".

He smiles at her wickedly, and leans in for a kiss. His lips are warm and soft on hers and the taste of him lingers even after he has pulled away, although he does not move far.

"I actually came with good news," he whispers. "An idea that Eamon had."

"Oh?" She leans into him already craving another kiss, eager to rid herself of the heavy thoughts that threaten to ruin the good ground they have recovered. She slides a hand onto his legs, teasing at his under clothes.

"Yes, there has been some talk amongst the nobles about what to do with the Howe Arling."

Her lips snarl at the mention of the Arl Howe, but she chooses to ignore it, in favor of far more pleasing things happening under her fingertips. She hears his breath catch before he is able to continue.

"It seems..there is some approval..for the idea that the Warden-Commander..could command more than just the..Wardens." His breath is heavy, and his words slow several times before he can complete his thought. His hands are on her in a flash, rough and warmer than her own skin. He uses his weight to lay her down and pulls at the laces on her remaining garments.

The idea finally registers as she lays back and lets Alistair finish undressing them both. An Arling in her control? Would that not mean she would be near enough noble for the purposes of Ferelden tradition? He does not let her forget her own distraction though, and he returns the tender teasing she had begun, at the same time laying gentle kisses on her neck and breasts.

She tries to ask if having the Arling in her command would mean what she thinks it might, but the words are broken by alternating silences and unrestrained moans from one or the both of them. Once, he starts to answer, to tell her that their wait could be over soon; but finds his concentration needed elsewhere.

***

Teagan means to leave the room. As soon as she and Alistair finally lean down to the bed, he tells himself that the opportunity is right, that they are both enough distracted for him to leave. But, he finds himself rooted to the spot as he watches Alistair's hands caress the body of the Warden he too has loved. Her breathing is jagged and the hunger he hears in it pierces him, giving his own flesh reason to react. His mind reels with what Alistair has implied about Rendon Howe's Arling. If it is true, his Warden would be noble, good enough for Ferelden to see married to their King.

He leans against the wall behind him, feet unable to propel him forward and finds his hands in need of preoccupation. He steels his will against the need inside him, determined to overcome it. It is what is right he thinks: what he deserves as punishment. To watch her, to need her, and to be so far from her; is that not what he had done tonight? He had made her sit and watch as he announced his engagement at dinner, almost hoping it would bring her pain. He was not intentioned to be so cruel, but a part of him had needed to see that she cared.

And now he felt it was right, to stay and see her satisfied. He reminded himself that he was to be married, that he had done it because it was best for them both, to break them of the cycle of denial and guilt they had created. He would marry Kaitlyn, and his Warden would eventually be bride to Alistair as should be the order of things. She was not his to claim. And so he braced himself against the wall, hands at his sides, shuddering with every moan that escaped her lips.

When they are quiet some time later, Teagan comes away from the wall and spares a glance towards the bed, hoping it is time to make his escape. He quickly remembers her vast well of energy as her voice reverberates again through the room before he is even able to take a step. He hears the shuffling of bed covers being rearranged before her breathing becomes erratic again, Alistair's own sounds wind together with hers.

Teagan settles back again, muscles tense with concentration and control, but finds it increasingly difficult to stay still. He hears her whispers to the Maker, and flashes of their tangled and damp bodies play behind his closed eyes. This time, he resolves he has had punishment enough, and takes matters into his own hands.


End file.
